Long Tall & Handsome

by jkatejohnston

21 February 2014

Duncan has a cardiologist, a radiologist, and a periodontist at UC Davis School of Veterninary Medicine, but it turns out he can’t be put under for gum surgery because of his heart, which is enlarged, murmurs, and is off its rhythm, a combination of symptoms so rare that only twenty cases exist in the last ten years of the professional literature. He’s also losing weight, and I’m considering making homemade cat-food for him, which seems to mean grinding up whole bunny rabbits in one of those hand-cranked food grinders that clamp to the edge of a table, and then adding a slurry of calf’s liver and supplements. Heat in microwave to temperature of freshly killed mammal. Serve immediately. (If I do this I simply must revive my food blog.)

Enzo wants to make Duncan salmon squares. He also wants to go to Florida, find a gator—a farmed one—cut off its leg, collect the blood, make blood ice cubes, and take them back to treat Duncan. He learned on one of his nature shows that gator blood has powerful antibiotic properties, and scientists are working on developing medicines from it. Duncan could be the first. “When you cut off a gator’s leg, it doesn’t even hurt. It just tickles.”

Duncan came home with mouthwash, a toothbrush, an instructional video for the same, antibiotics for his gums, two probiotics for his guts (one pill, one gel), and narcotics for the pain that Teresa had to sign a release for, and which, come to think of it, we may have to unload on the street to pay for everything else.

In the six pages of paperwork he came home with, he’s described as, “Duncan, a 9-year-old DSH, presented for evaluation of halitosis and suspected stomatitis…Evaluated for GI disease, historically chronically loose stools. Several novel protein/GI diets attempted with limited patent acceptance and lack of improvement.” The paperwork includes a radiology report, an ultrasonography report, and a cardiology consultation. The reports say nothing about Duncan’s mental status, but the young vet told Teresa that he is smart, news which amazed us all.

You would think from all this that he’d be acting sick, but he seems perfectly fine, eating his head off three times a day. He’s a good, sweet, needy, lap-loving cat—long, tall and handsome. Who cares if he has bad breath and poopy paws?